


In Which Washington has a Fan Club

by only_soft_birds_allowed



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a gay mess, Gen, George Washington’s fans, Historical context, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_soft_birds_allowed/pseuds/only_soft_birds_allowed
Summary: Hi everyone! This is my first time posting a fic, hope you enjoy!





	In Which Washington has a Fan Club

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first time posting a fic, hope you enjoy!

ONE 

Hamilton knew that there was something wrong with President Washington’s fans from the beginning. He has seen some bizarre shit. Such as the one time Washington and him were doing a meet-and-greet at the White House. A gaggle of young women had walked up to Washington to shake his hand and exchange pleasantries, and the moment they left the President turned to Alex with a pinched face, wiping his hand on his trousers.  
“What is it?” Alex implored, confused as to why Washington wore such an acute expression of disgust. His eyes roved over him in search for anything abnormal, but nothing seemed to stand out.  
“Those women..” Washington began, glancing at his hands and swiping them on his pants again, “had hands that were quite wet. As soon as I joined hands with each woman I felt an absurd amount of sweat left behind on my palm.” Furrowing his brow, the man looked over to where the group of women were chatting up the Vice President, Mr. John Adams.  
Giving a cringe of disgust in sympathy, Alexander then offered a grin of consolation to Washington. “At least you won’t have to speak to such persons again, Mr. Adams has them distracted, it seems.”  
Washington replied saying, “I wouldn’t make such a bold assumption.” much to Alexander’s confusion, before he followed Washington’s gaze to the women, who appeared to be giggling behind their hands and nudging each other before meandering their way over.  
“Not this again.” Hamilton bemoaned, slapping a hand to his forehead in exasperation.  
Glancing over to Hamilton’s miserable (yet humorous) expression, Washington almost smiled and replied, “Duty calls, my boy.”

TWO

Anarchy. That was the only way the President’s cabinet could describe the state of said man’s estate. They were helpless to the onslaught of adoring fans that wanted “novelty items” from “that sexy beast Washington’s personal home oh sweet Jesus”.  
The entire place was gutted, with only the heavy, large, or immovable items left behind. To the group's disgust, some of the poor man's clothing and bedsheets lay scattered on the floor, speckled with blood and a fingernail here and there. The fight must have been vicious to leave behind such utterly destroyed remains.  
Thomas Jefferson was one of the first to survey the vandalism, and despite his slight dislike for the President at times, he couldn't help but feel elephantine amounts of pity that near everything his estate contained was gone. The damage was astounding, what with broken windows near the foyer, scratches on the floors, the blood and hair....it was quite the sight.  
'Good thing President Washington is on an outing for a few weeks.’ Jefferson thought to himself, 'such a sight would surely leave the man in great disheartenment and devastation.’  
“Sir Jefferson! I have dreadful news!”, came a voice from behind him. Turning around, Jefferson spotted John Adams...kind of jogging his way over. Although he loved his dearest friend to pieces, the slight jiggling of his chin was a tad gut-churning. He did he best to look past it, for John Adams truly was a wonderful pers-”Thomas! Oh, it's awful! President Washington’s meeting ended early due to an awful storm! He's on his way, and will be arriving here in but a few hours!”  
Jefferson jolted in unpleasant surprise. Oh no. This was bad. ‘More than bad,’ he thought, ‘try panic-inducing’. What were they going to do?

\-----*****-----

“What are we going to do?! The President will be here any minute!!” Screeched Adams, flailing his arms. “All of the woodworkers within a five mile radius have refused to sell us furniture!”  
“WHAT?!” Hamilton shouted, dropping the mop and bucket, leaving blood and dirt saturated water to spill all over the floor as he leapt towards Adams and grabbed his shoulders before delivering a brain-rattling shake. Jefferson exchanged looks of sympathy with the other cabinet members, as all present were aware that Hamilton was very….aggressive with his concern for the President. It made for an equal amount of facepalming and chuckles, depending on the day.

Click.

“What is the meaning behind all this racket?” A very familiar voice called from the front entrance. The house immediately went completely silent, everyone freezing in place. Jefferson broke into a cold sweat, millions of scenarios running through his mind, all of which ending up with Washington being furious. But so wrapped up in his panic he was that he didn't hear hear the President approaching until he heard a clunk and a small intake of breath.  
Washington’s briefcase had fallen onto the floor, opening slightly to permit a couple of pages to peek through the edges, and he wore an expression so filled with shock and horror that it would be humorous in any other situation. Jefferson shrunk back in shame and took a good look around the room: Edmund Randolph and Henry Knox were sweeping up broken glass together, John Jay was cleaning up the bloody puddles with torn pieces of Washington’s clothes, and finally Hamilton with his hands tightly gripping Adam’s shoulders as the poor man’s eyes spun in their sockets.  
Turning his head to stare back at Washington, Jefferson watched him stand there for a minute or two before circling the room, and at its conclusion, begin his investigation of the other rooms in his home. Shivering in fear, Thomas locked eyes with the other cabinet members before giving a curt and robotic nod; it was probably best to get back to cleaning. Hamilton’s hands dropped back to his sides before jerking back up to (unsuccessfully) catch Adams when he began to collapse from dizziness.  
“....So. Would any of my loyal and truthful cabinet members care to elaborate on the destruction that has occurred in my home, while I was away and entrusted its care to all of you?” Washington began an hour or so later, crossing his arms and tapping his foot lightly while wearing a supremely peeved facial expression. His eyes roved over the others, and it seemed like his stress lines became impossibly deeper when many avoided his gaze, choosing to look at the scuffed up floor rather than their superior's (rightfully) stern and imploring face. Opening his mouth, Jefferson tried to quickly settle his nerves so he could explain-but Hamilton had beaten him to the punch.  
“It was those rabid, vile fans of yours, Mr. Washington!” Hamilton burst out, flushing a bit when George’s eyes honed onto him. “Your neighbor-Ms. Martha-sent for us on horseback, she claimed to have seen many a folk burglarizing your home and wanted to get help swiftly. But as you can see..it was too late. I assure you, Mr. President, if we find those offenders they will rue the day they dared to entertain the thought of stealing from you.” He finished in an angry and hushed breath, practically foaming at the mouth.  
Quirking an eyebrow, Washington took the chance to observe the state of his home again. Jefferson and the gang were mostly content with waiting for him to come up with a verdict, shifting about on their feet and murmuring softly to each other.  
“The furniture that was once in my home will be irreplaceable,” he began, and everyone else's faces fell before he continued by saying, “but perhaps my cabinet members will aid me in picking out new decor, if they are willing?” he concluded with a tentative smile.  
The others responded with grins and confirmations, quickly replaced with looks of deep relief after Washington nodded and began his trek out the door. They were lucky to avoid his anger this time.

THREE

In the blinding light from his office’s naked windows, George Washington sat. He was swamped with paperwork already, and it had only been three days since his inauguration. Was he ever going to have a second of free time?  
‘Doesn’t seem like it.’ He mused to himself, rubbing his chin. ‘Perhaps when I am on my deathbed my paperwork will disappear.’  
Shaking his head in light humor, George could not help but look out the window longingly. It truly was a beautiful day, the early May flowers pushing their way out of the soil as the sun shone brightly and warm. Fluffy clouds floated free and far apart, becoming the objects of desire for those who were stuck inside. Washington longed to go visit his steed Nelson and take a midmorning ride, feel the fresh dew on the grass, visit his garden in Mount Vernon, have tea with some guests. Anything but this torture.  
Whining in a fashion quite similar to an impatient child, Washington dropped his head onto the heaping piles of paperwork before hurriedly picking it up back again. Snatching up his quill, he began reading, annotating, and signing documents in a frenzied whirl, for he was desperate to not let this day scuttle away like a frightened sand crab.  
So focused was he, that he did not hear nor go to inspect the great commotion occurring just outside of his office.

\-----*****-----

“Release me this instant! I am I high-ranking general under the navy of the British Crown, and you shall let me through or suffer my diplomatic wrath!! Wraahhh!” A young woman that went by the name of Martha went. She was muffling her snickers and mischievous expression behind her hand, tears of mirth gathering at the corners of her eyes.  
‘President Washington will have no idea what hit him!’ she gleefully thought, putting up an admirable struggle against the guards that restrained her from getting through the heavy wood door. ‘What they don’t know know is that I, Martha Curtis, am but a mere secretary! What a delightful farce I’ve played them into. I must continue!’  
Opening her mouth, mad peels of laughter escaped her mouth, much to her inner panic. Although it was not part of her plans, she caught eye of the guards exchanging apprehensive looks and sweating a bit in fear. ‘Perfect!’ she schemed, ‘I will act as a delusioned invalid instead, what a humorous disguise!’ With this plan in mind, she opened her mouth wide and groaned before letting loose twisted guffawing, lines of drool dribbling down her face. ‘How unladylike of me,’ she briefly pondered in manic excitement, ‘another opportunity would be rare to come across, which is why I must make the most of it now!’

FOUR

Alexander Hamilton was becoming quite optimistic about the goings of this year’s annual gala. President Washington was having a fine time mingling with the guests and shaking hands, dancing with various women on the floor, and drinking a little bit too. Currently the man was taking a small break by him with a glass of chilled liquor, ice cubes clinking on the sides of the glass as he took a sip. The sight was mesmerizing, Alexander couldn’t help but stare with rapt attention as Washington’s adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed some of his beverage. Wetting his lips and adjusting his collar a bit, he briefly entertained the thought that it was becoming a tad warm. Maybe some open windows would be benefici-  
“Mr. President, why, you’re looking so dashing and toothsome tonight that I would cross the Delaware River for you.” Hamilton spat out his drink, spraying Washington’s sleeve with a fine shean of liquor, much to his immediate horror. Aghast, he wasn’t sure whether to look at Washington’s (most likely) bewildered and slightly peeved face for getting alcohol all over his shoulder, or to look at the perpetrator who had the audacity to dare say such a thing to the President of the United States.  
Quickly determining that Washington’s wrath was something to be avoided at all costs, Hamilton sought to distract him and turned to the verbal offender and set to flaying them alive. “Pardon me? Who do you think you are? Have you no shame? President Washington is a man of extremely high stature, seeing as he’s THE FLIPPIN’ PRESIDENT, you goatish, fat-kidneyed cretin. You be so bold as to saunter your way over, giggling like the airhead you are, because it’s your nature, isn’t it? And you think you ca-can SEDUCE the President! Well I have news for you, for this is not the case! Our country’s treasured President is certainly not interested in whatever scheme you have cooked up, I can assure you. And honestly? What were you thinking, surely it crossed your near-empty head that-”  
“Hamilton. That’s enough.” Washington admonished, and Hamilton quieted and turned to see him with crossed arms and a firm scowl on his face. Uh-oh. Not good. Perhaps he did go a bit out-of-bounds, calling her fat-kidneyed like that, although she deserved it, truly! But maybe not the comment about her having an empty head, he supposed he wasn’t acquainted well enough with her to make that kind of judgement...  
But Washington wasn’t abated by his increasingly conscience-stricken expression and raised an eyebrow at him with his “go fix the mess you’ve made” face, one of Hamilton’s least favorites. Sighing the sigh of a man with the world upon his shoulders, Hamilton steeled his countenance and returned to his former position of facing the thoroughly wounded lady.  
“I apologize for my...harsh words, you startled me with your brazen flirtations and I reacted poorly. I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.” Hamilton vocalized in a barely-alive tone, staring at the...unique unibrow she sported instead of making any kind of eye contact. He then heard her huff and give a curt “fine” before whirling away and making a speedy exit. ‘And rightly so,’ Alexander darkly stewed, ‘to come onto the man like that, why she has some nerve. I only apologized so Washington wouldn’t look at me with that face. My words were quite appropriate-undoubtedly.’ Nodding a bit to himself in assurance, Hamilton sneaked a look at the lady’s retreating back and smirked a bit to himself before turning to face Washingt-’aaannndd he’s laughing at me. Way to go, Alex. You’ve really done it this time.’  
Chuckling to himself, Washington glanced down to look at Alexander’s now scowling face and gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Why, Mr. Hamilton, how kind of you to defend my virtue for me, and in quite a vicious fashion too.” he began, eagerly watching Hamilton’s face flush in embarrassment. Opening his mouth again, Washington continued his torture with a grin and jovial tone, humiliating Alexander, for defending him from undeserving women, nonetheless! “What an incapable individual you must think of me to be so amenable of leaping to my rescue from a suitor. Oh, I’m so flattered, I must inform you.”  
Alexander covered his flaming face with his palms, stunned by the brashness the President had to imply-to say that he-it was unbelievable! Gaping at Washington, Hamilton narrowed his eyes, took a step forward and gathered himself before shooting back, “if that is the case, then tell me, what was the purpose behind that whole ‘disapproval‘ act? If you are as capable of declining suitors as you say you are, then why didn’t you? What purpose was there in making me apologize if it was of little importance to you? Do you find this humorous?”  
“I find it very entertaining, actually.” Washington replied, only a small quirk of the mouth left of his smile. Hamilton hated that despite his anger, he desired to make the man smiling endlessly for him. “But do not go putting words in my mouth now, you were under no obligation to chase off that woman on my behalf, for I did not ask of you to, nor would I ever, as I’m capable of turning down admirers on my own, astoundingly enough. Furthermore, you gave me nary a second to respond to her approaches. The moment she finished speaking you were upon her like that wild horse who demolished my fall harvest.” Washington covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders lightly shaking.  
At this point it was not easy to tell if Washington was in good humor or not anymore, due to the tears in his eyes and the ever increasing shoulder shakes. He must’ve been really upset over that horse, Alex thought before he took a minute to process the man’s words, suddenly becoming flabbergasted. Washington was TEASING him! Sputtering as the truthness of the President’s words struck him across the face LIKE A DEAD FISH, Hamilton backed away and was at a loss of words for the first time in his life. Unimaginable, I know.  
Unsure on how to retort, Alexander waffled for a moment, shifting his weight around on his feet before making a decision that would leave him as the butt of numerous jokes and jabs from his fellow cabinet members for days to come: he fled. Turning tail, Alexander dashed (it was a tactical retreat, dammit!) from the scene, deaf to the “wait, Alex!” and raised hand that followed him.

FIVE

“What the fuck.” was all that Alexander could utter as he apprehensively eyed the….monstrosity that was Jefferson’s contribution to the First Cabinet Potluck Dinner. If this is what people decided to bring in, Hamilton hoped that this dinner would never happen again.  
It was a mess of pasta, slathered with what Hamilton could only guess to be thick, goopy oil. When Jefferson grabbed a plate and piled on the slop-ugh, he was going to be sick-strings of congealed fat followed until the man caught them with his fork and severed it from the casserole dish. Hamilton watched with disgusted fascination as Jefferson took a hearty bite, and scrunched up his nose as Jefferson moaned lightly at the dreadful taste. Good lord.  
“....what?” Washington quietly questioned from his side, the disbelief and confusion audible in his voice. His eyebrows gently furrowed and he raised one finger to discreetly point at the accident of a meal. Catching Hamilton’s eye, he shifted his body slightly to face him and leaned closer. “Is that what Jefferson decided to bring?” he whispered near Hamilton’s ear, and dang it, not the goosebumps again, c’mon.  
“It mUST be!” Hamilton near bellowed, forgetting to mind his volume with Washington all in his space, and leaning close, and - oh no, everyone nearby turned to look at the commotion (which was him) and whoops that included Jefferson too. Feeling the heat creep up on his neck, Hamilton guessed that his eyes and cheeks were an embarrassing shade of pink, what with how Washington was staring at him now.  
Snapping out of his stupor, Hamilton hurriedly waved his hands, “Nothing to worry about! Everything is fine!” he near squawked out, which made it obvious to the partygoers that everything was clearly not okay. Jefferson gave him an especially odd look, hiking up a shapely eyebrow to send him a silent ‘I don’t believe you but I’ll leave it be’ look, before turning back to his conversation with Martha, who oh god, ALSO had a plate of that revolting, stomach-churning gruel. Cringing, Alexander once again faced Washington and felt triumph at his (well hidden) equally repulsed face. At least he wasn’t alone in his disgust, because truly, it would be just like Jefferson to bring in an icky dish that only he and Martha, for god’s sake, would eat. Honestly - was that man trying to make everyone hate him? The man didn’t have to try very hard but surely Jefferson must know that these kinds of actions were going to be his downfall.  
“...ance?” Suddenly snapping back to attention, Hamilton keenly noticed the expectant look that Washington was wearing, and oh dear he must’ve asked a question but of course, the one time to get lost in one’s thoughts. Stupid! Belatedly realizing that Washington was STILL waiting for a response, Alexander debated if he should embarrass himself further by asking for the inquiry to be repeated, or throw out an answer and hope that it made him look like he was paying attention.  
Well. He’s already made a grand fool of himself. “I absolutely agree, Mr. President.” Hamilton replied in an pseudo-confident tone, mustering up a weird facial expression to complete the blunder. Washington smirked, oh no, what did he just agree to, and responded, “I’m overjoyed that you concur, my boy”, cue internal flinch, “and I’m a flattered man now that you’ve taken up my offer. Shall we?” Placing down his drink, Washington held out his hand and-  
“Your Honor! Trouble by the balcony!” A mousy girl rushed out, urgently making her way towards Washington. “Madam Curtis is in a rage! She’s struck numerous servants, we need you to calm her down!”  
“Of course! My goodness, what has happened now? Sorry my boy, but I must depart and halt this donnybrook, I ardently hope that you’re not offended. Perhaps another time, yes?” Said Washington, his expression open and ernest. Hamilton couldn’t say no when George looked at him like that, and found himself accepting the invite for...something. He had no idea. Should I be worried? ..No, I’m sure everything will be fine.  
Hamilton watched Washington rush off with a fond expression, before turning to look at the girl who had yet to follow. He caught her smirking briefly before her expression smoothed out and was replaced with concern. She gathered her dress and turned to scurry off after Washington, leaving Hamilton with nothing to do. Deciding to grab a beverage from the snack table, Hamilton started to - wait.  
Why is Martha at the snack table?

....AND ONE AGAIN

“President Washington! Rumor has it that the Capitol Building is actually made from stale bread! What do you have to say about this, since it is your place of residence?” What the fuck? Hamilton thought, befuddled that the reporter had the audacity and stupidity to ask such a weird question.  
“Mister President! Is it true that the capitol Building’s extra bedchambers are used to grow exotic tobacco? The people need to know!” ...Huh? What are they TALKING about? Hamilton’s confusion could practically be seen for all the staff and reporters to see, but they plowed on, asking about everything under the sun, from the plant decor to the manure content from the stables. What is WRONG with these people?

\------*****-------

“REPORTERS OF TODAY: WHAT WENT WRONG?”  
By Alice Weathersby

“Just yesterday I went to the Annual Inquiries Conference at the Capitol Building. I can wholeheartedly claim with full confidence that the town of Washington D.C. is coming along quite nicely, the inns were lovely with full accommodations to guests of such a large volume. I found myself very pleased with the service and kindness that I was given during my stay.  
Enough about my lodgings though. The truly interesting event was the conference. Goodness me, what a day that was. I found myself sitting in bewildered shock and thorough disgust throughout the whole shebang, for the questions that the eager newswriters asked were of the oddest and most intrusive taste.  
I sat through hours of bizarre questions, ranging from, ‘Mister President, you’re a Pisces, correct? Is it true that Pisces weep often? Do you frequently find yourself with turbulent emotions?’ to ‘President Washington, my son-in-law has found himself tied up with a dirty skank. I’ve told him numerous times that he needs to dump her ass, but I still find her hairs and scent on the poor thing. What is an unnoticeable and cost-efficient method that my family can employ to get rid of her?’ Truly puzzling that they would ask such specific and out of ordinary questions.  
But it got worse. Oh, how it got worse. I feel immense compassion for President Washington. There he was with his cabinet: all looking incredibly uncomfortable. Picture it. Thomas Jefferson wore a pinched expression for the entirety of the interrogation, Henry Knox looked particularly furious, but every time he shuffled and opened his mouth, the President held up a hand to stop him. Poor dear. I must admit that Hamilton’s face what quite entertaining. He looked as if someone had struck him upside the head with a sturdy skillet. I tried to hold in any laughter, but I just couldn’t manage it after a while. I did my best to be quiet in respect to the President and his men. Something that the others couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of.  
The queries were awful. I remember some of the worst ones, such as, ‘What of the rumors surrounding your...infertility? Are they true?’ and ‘President Washington, my supervisor once told me that she wanted to eat out your ass and slurp you down like how a freshly awoken coma-ridden hospital patient would guzzle their first bowl of hot soup in months. Do you accept her invite?’ I have no words. Godspeed.  
What prompts reporters to ask questions like this? What makes them so bold? I (embarrassingly) must admit that I’m one of President Washington’s many admirers, but I would NEVER act like this. Where did we go wrong in the news industry?

\------*****-----

“Amen to that.” Hamilton remarked, rolling his eyes and passing the paper to Randolph. “Here, read this. This writer seems to understand common respect and decency. My god, that was an awful day. I need a drink.” Randolph chuckled and waved him away to the liquor cabinets, replying, “I think we all deserve one.”


End file.
